The Worst Coffee Ever
by sykron
Summary: Alfred didn't even know why he came to the damn coffee shop everyday. Their coffee was shit and he was pretty sure they were overcharging him and that the barista was out for his blood or something. But then he would turn his head to the corner where that British guy sat down everyday and he would remember why he ever stepped foot into the damn place.


A/N: A self-indulgent coffee shop AU slightly based off a personal experience of mine. I hope you all enjoy it ^.^  
And for the sake of this story, let's pretend that the barista gives someone their order at their table, okay?

* * *

If Alfred knew that he was going to spend about forty minutes every day sitting in a coffee shop and drinking the worst coffee ever created then he probably wouldn't have answered his phone. Maybe.

It had all started one bad morning months ago. Alfred had woken up with a hangover- it was all Francis's fault for dragging him to a party the night before which he strangely had no recollection of whatsoever- and he had accidentally knocked his last tin of coffee to the ground when he made a grab for it. He didn't even have time to mourn for the loss of his hangover salvation when the shrill sound of his ringtone- ugh, why did he have to set up the volume so fucking _high_- rang throughout his apartment. After stumbling his way over to his desk (he refused to acknowledge that he tripped on a pair of boxers he was pretty sure magically appeared just to mess with him) and fumbling with the touch screen, Feliciano's cheerful voice resounded loudly in Alfred's ears, making him wince when the throbbing of his headache spiked up.

"Whoa there Feli, slow down!" Alfred groaned at the speed his friend was talking, rubbing his temple with his free hand. His head felt like it was going to explode. "Not everyone's a morning person, 'specially after last night."

He could hear Feliciano chuckle sheepishly before talking again, this time, much to Alfred's relief, clearly and slowly. "_Scusi_ _mi_, I always forget that you're not good with hangovers. Anyways, _fratello_ and me were planning on watching a movie with everyone tonight and we wanted to know if you could come!"

"Which movie?" He asked, a bit of a slur in his voice. He really needed some painkillers right now. Or coffee. Yeah, he needed coffee.

"It's a surprise!" Feliciano sang. "If you come, you'll know!"

"I don't know Feli…" Alfred mumbled," My head's killing me right now and I'm outta coffee-"

"But you're never out of coffee!"

"'s a long story…"

"Hmmm," Feliciano hummed for a few seconds before responding," There's a coffee shop that opened up a few weeks ago where you live. Why not go there?"

"There is? Dude, why didn't you tell me this sooner?" He whined, already making his way to his bedroom to grab a fresh set of clothes and his keys. "I could've been there already!"

Feliciano chuckled nervously, though that might have been Alfred imagining things. "I must have forgotten! It's right in front of that really tall building, the one Ludwig's brother works in!" Alfred had a vague recollection of where the building was. Feliciano had casually pointed it out one day when the two had passed it, saying that Ludwig's older brother- what was his name again? It was either Gib or Gil, something like that- worked there as VP for whatever it was they did there. It was only three blocks away from him then. Good.

"You're a lifesaver Feli." By this time Alfred had put his phone on speaker to strip himself of last night's clothes- he didn't question the unknown stains- and dressed in his favorite Captain America T-shirt and loose pair of jeans. He slid into the bomber jacket his grandfather had given to him for his eighteenth birthday- secretly, Alfred enjoyed the jacket far more than the money his parents had given him- as he slipped his shoes on.

"You're welcome! Oh, and I'll go ahead and tell Lovi that you'll be coming. Just drop by our flat around eight. And bring buttered popcorn!"

"Wait, I never agreed I would-"

"_Ciao _Alfred! See you later!" With that, Feliciano hung up. Alfred shrugged it off and stuffed his phone and wallet into his jeans before making his way to the door. His head was still throbbing but it was much more manageable now that Alfred knew he would be drinking some coffee soon.

The walk over was a bit longer than he expected- it took half an hour, much to his annoyance- but a small grin made its way onto his face once he saw that Feliciano had been right. Right across the street was a fairly large building with _'Coffee+Tea'- _such a plain name for a coffee shop, Alfred thought- written on a teacup for a logo. There were tables inside and out but, much to Alfred's surprise, most of them were already occupied. Alfred walked over to the glass window and did a quick inspection of the interior. Besides the table and the counter- there should _not_ be so many people in the morning waiting in line dammit- one of the walls was completely taken over by three bookcases, each one filled to the brim with books of all sizes. He wondered if anyone actually read the books.

Alfred practically ran to the entrance- he only stopped because his headache thought it was time to make its presence known again- and almost slammed the door open. He ended up receiving a few annoyed glances and glares- in which he ignored all of them because nothing was going to stop him from getting his damn large cup of coffee. The line was actually smaller than he thought and within five, very painful and agonizing, minutes he was in front of a smiling male barista that was sort of freaking Alfred out.

"Your order?" He asked in a thick European accent, it was probably Russian or something. Alfred stated his order- a large cup of coffee with four milks and three packets of sugar along with a small chocolate cake- and successfully managed not to look the guy in the eyes. This probably pissed the barista off somehow since he happily charged him ten dollars. Alfred just stared at him.

"Ten dollars?" He asked in disbelief. "What is this, Starbucks?"

The barista- Ivan, if his nametag was anything to go by- nodded. He was still smiling. "You will pay now?"

Alfred grumbled out a few curses and grudgingly took out his wallet to give the guy a ten-dollar bill. Ivan cheerfully ripped it from Alfred's hands and gave him his receipt, saying his order will be ready soon. Alfred scanned the place for an available place to sit and eventually found one near the bookcases. He carefully made his way there, almost bumping into a few tables, and placed his forehead on the cool wooden surface the second he sat down.

A few seconds later his mind graciously reminded him of the convenience store right across his apartment that sold his favorite brand of coffee. Alfred thumped his head onto the table and groaned. "Fuck, I'm-."

"You are an absolute idiot, do you realize this?" Alfred jumped and snapped his head upwards- earning him another jolt of pain- to the direction of the voice. The owner of the voice was sitting across the room, right in front of one of the bookcases. From where Alfred was, he could only see that the man had blond hair and was wearing a suit. Apparently, he wasn't speaking to him but to the man- did the guy have silver hair?- who sat across from him. "I have no bloody idea whatsoever how you became vice-president."

"Obviously it was because the higher ups thought someone as awesome as me needed a promotion." The silver-haired guy grinned and tussled the blonde's hair. "Maybe one day you'll see how it feels, _intern._" The blond flipped the other guy off and simultaneously took a sip of whatever he was drinking. Alfred couldn't help but chuckle.

"Fuck off, will you Gilbert? That would make my and Kiku's jobs a lot easier." The blond stated nonchalantly. Alfred's mind registered he had a British accent which sounded really nice and damn it he did not just think that about a random guy! It was his hangover's fault.

Where the hell was his coffee?

"One coffee and cake, yes?" Alfred started at the Russian barista who seemed to appear from nowhere. He was holding a tray in his hands with Alfred's order in it.

"Um, yeah. Thanks." Alfred mumbled as the Russian placed the order in front of him. The latter smiled one last, disturbing smile before making his way back to the counter. Alfred eagerly took the Styrofoam cup in his hands and took a large gulp of it, expecting the delicious, bitter taste-

-and then promptly spit it out because_ what the fuck coffee doesn't taste like this. _

Frankly, it didn't taste like any kind of drink he'd had before. It was bitter and salty and a bit spicy and _oh god the taste was still in his mouth-_

Alfred shoved the tiny cake in his mouth and thanked his lucky stars that at least the dessert tasted how it should. His cheeks were puffed out and they hurt slightly from how stretched out they were but Alfred ignored his discomfort for reveling in the taste. He had to admit that it was one of the best chocolate cakes he'd ever tasted. Or maybe that was just the _thing_- there was no way he was going to call what he just drank _coffee_- talking.

He took off the lid of the coffee cup and stared at the brown liquid cautiously. It looked like coffee and it smelled like coffee but why didn't it taste like coffee?

Alfred tilted his head slightly to the counter where the Russian was cheerfully making an order and narrowed his eyes. Damn Russian probably spiked his coffee.

He heard a few shuffling noises and then the sound of laughter filled his ears. The British guy was covering his mouth with his hand but Alfred could still clearly see the amused smile on the man's face as he laughed at his companion's coffee-stained suit. That smile really suited him-

He blamed the hangover.

Alfred groaned and bumped his head against the table while muttering a few curses. He was never going to come back here again.

* * *

He found himself back two weeks later.

Alfred let out a puff of air as he waited in line- he couldn't understand _why_ there was such a long line if the coffee didn't even taste good- to order a _small _(he had learned his lesson the last time) cappuccino and a slice of apple pie he had been eyeing the last time he had been there. The only reason he had even stepped into the damn shop was because it was the closest coffee shop near him and he had just finished doing an all night study session for an important exam that he had in a few hours. He was tired and irritable and his nerves weren't helping him one bit. Plus his coffee machine had chosen to die on him at around 3 in the morning. Alfred was positive he would never forget the dying whale noise the machine made as it pumped brown liquid into the coffee pot. He was a bit bitter that the coffee machine couldn't even make him one last pot before passing away.

Time was passing by too slow for him and he tapped his foot in a messy rhythm. In his hurry to get caffeine he had forgotten his phone- he had barely remembered to grab his keys and a hoodie- and therefore his source of entertainment at home. He let out a loud sigh and ignored the way the woman behind him starting whispering about him to her friend.

Five people later and Alfred found himself in the front of the line, waiting to be served. He was practically jumping in place as he waited for his turn. He distracted himself by looking at the blackboard filled with different types of coffees and cakes and their prices and _holy hell_ this place was expensive. His simple order would cost him about eight bucks alone (why was the apple pie so damn expensive?). Alfred was glad he had swiped a ten-dollar bill from his brother the other day.

"Welcome. Your order?" Alfred snapped his head to the register and found the same Russian barista who had spiked his coffee the last time. The grin that had made its way onto his face disappeared in an instant as he tried his best not to glare at the man. He was failing.

"Small cappuccino and a slice of apple pie." Alfred ordered as casually as he could though it ended up irritable. The Russian's eyes darkened for less than a second and Alfred could have sworn he had scowled at him but the man looked back to normal the next time Alfred blinked. Weird.

The barista cheerfully told him the price and Alfred handed him the ten-dollar bill. Once receiving his change and receipt, Alfred left as fast as he could and quickly scanned the room for an available table. There were none. Just his luck.

He looked around some more and found there were only three seats available. One was next to an old man screaming into his phone, the other besides a young woman swallowing her cake as if she hadn't eaten in days, and the last one was in front of a blond man in a suit reading a book. Well with those options the answer was obvious. He quickly made his way over to the blond man before anyone else, like the woman who had been gossiping about him, could do the same thing.

"'Scuse me, you mind if I sit here?" The blond man looked up and Alfred froze. His eyes were a brilliant shade of green, one that Alfred had never seen before, and were completely mesmerizing. They almost made Alfred forget about the man's huge eyebrows. Almost.

The man stared at him for a good few seconds before sighing and going back to his book. "Not at all."

"Um, thanks." Alfred sat down, wondering why the man's voice sounded familiar. He could have sworn he had heard it before…

Oh, it was British guy from his last visit. The one he had been thinking weird thoughts about. _Great._

Alfred stared at the man across from him. Up close, the man _did_ look about his age, if not a few years older. His hair was blond and cut short, the strands just barely stopping at his eyebrows (Alfred wouldn't even get started on _those_). He wore a suit- probably a business man- and if Alfred was being honest, he looked damn good wearing it.

"Can I help you with something?" Alfred was snapped out of his thoughts at the man's irritated voice addressing him. He felt himself flush in embarrassment. Crap he needed an excuse. His eyes strayed towards the book the man was reading and an idea flashed into his mind.

"Just wondering what part you're on." Alfred grinned, hoping the lie wasn't clear on his face. "I read that book a while ago and it's real interesting."

The Englishman raised an eyebrow. His lips quirked up the slightest bit. "Oh really? That's a bit odd, considering this book isn't going to be on sale for another week."

Alfred sputtered. He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment. "Um, I-"

"It _is_ quite a story though," The Englishman continued on," so you should consider purchasing a copy once it's on sale."

Alfred nodded, too embarrassed to comment back about how he didn't really read novels. He was more of a nonfiction sort of guy. Unless the book was about physics or even archeology, there was no way he was probably going to buy it, even if the Englishman was the one recommending it to him.

Minutes passed by in awkward silence. Alfred fidgeted in his seat, desperately trying to think of another conversation topic because long silences weren't his thing and he just really wanted to hear the other man's voice more. Just when he thought he had something, the Russian barista was standing over him with his order and a cup of what Alfred assumed was tea. "Here you go." He placed Alfred's order in front of him and the cup of tea in front of the Brit, as Alfred had decided to temporarily call him until he knew the other's name, before returning to his place at the front.

This time before taking a sip, Alfred took off the lid and gave the liquid inside a good hard stare. It _looked_ like a cappuccino but, then again, so did the coffee he had ordered last time. He peeked over at the Brit and saw him take a casual sip of his drink. His face seemed to relax at the taste and there was just a hint of a smile there. Alfred swore his heart skipped a beat.

"You really like tea, don't cha?" He blurted out before realizing what he said. He felt his face warm up when the Brit looked at him incredulously.

"I wouldn't be drinking it otherwise." He deadpanned.

"Right…" Alfred laughed, which sounded strain even to his own ears, and decided that this conversation was going nowhere so he might as well drink his cappuccino. He took a large gulp of it. After all, it's not like the barista would mess with his drink twice in a row; the guy probably didn't even remember him.

He had to use all his willpower to not spit it out and ruin the Brit's suit.

He knew cappuccinos were supposed to be sweet but not so much that it was sickening. Alfred glared at the disgrace of a drink before redirecting his gaze to the barista. The Russian met his gaze with an eerie smile before focusing on the customer in front of him. Yep, the guy definitely remembered him and for some reason hated Alfred's guts so much that he was tampering with his coffee. That was the only explanation he could think of that could explain why he got two crappy drinks in a row.

Alfred pouted and took a bite of his dessert. At least the apple pie was good.

Across from him, he saw the Brit look at his watch and then mutter a few curses. Alfred panicked when he saw him begin to slide out of the booth. "Wait!" He yelled before he knew what he was doing. The Brit turned to look at him with a glare but Alfred thought he saw just a tiny bit of curiosity in those eyes.

He opened his mouth and then closed it. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. Hell, he didn't even know why he stopped the man from leaving.

The Brit sighed and offered him the book he had previously been reading. "Keep it." He said when Alfred shot him a confused look. "You've been staring at it since you've sat down. I can always get another copy, anyways."

Alfred nodded and took the book. He decided it best not to tell the other that it wasn't the book he had been staring at. "Thanks." He muttered.

"It's not a problem." The Brit replied. "I've been wanting to see how the public would receive the book, so you're actually doing me a favor by reading it."

Alfred couldn't help the grin that appeared on his face. "Then I'll make sure to tell ya what I think when I'm done."

The Brit stared at him with a blank expression before turning away. He muttered a goodbye and practically rushed out of the building. Alfred didn't miss the pink tinge that had appeared on the Brit's cheeks.

Alfred felt his grin widen and looked down at the book to hide his own red face.

* * *

And that's what led him to where he currently was- sitting in one of the booths wondering what the hell he was doing there.

He had visited the coffee shop daily for a few weeks now but had not talked to the Brit again, despite him being only a few yards away from him. This was mostly due to the fact that the Brit always had company with him. It was always either the strange albino looking man- Alfred thought his name was Gilbert but he wasn't quite sure- or the quiet Japanese man that sat across from the Brit, which annoyed Alfred to no end. He wanted to talk to him again, tell him about his thoughts on the book- he was only halfway done with it but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be; it was actually quite good- and maybe ask the Brit how he got a copy of a book before its released date and what he did for a living and if he wanted to get none-crappy coffee with him sometime-

Okay, so maybe he had a bit of a crush on the Brit. He didn't even know _how_ he could, especially since he barely even talked to the guy, but he did. And he hated it.

To add to his problems, the Russian barista had taken to personally make his life a living hell. _"Order a drink or leave,"_ were the exact words he had told Alfred on his third day of coming in without buying a drink. Alfred had glared at the Russian but ordered something anyway. He didn't want to be banned (well, he did but not yet). Their coffee was still horrible but he took a few sips of it anyway just to get the barista off his back.

Alfred glanced over to where he knew the Brit was and sighed for the millionth time. He had probably forgotten all about him. It wasn't like they had one of those special moments like on TV where two people meet in a coffee shop and they both couldn't stop thinking about the other. Life wasn't like that.

With a sigh he checked his phone and decided he should leave or he would be late for class. He threw the practically full cup of coffee into the trash before leaving, wondering if maybe tomorrow would be the day he would finally get to talk to the Brit again. The answer was always the same, of course, but he liked thinking that maybe one day it wouldn't be.

He didn't notice the pair of red eyes watching him curiously.

When Alfred stepped into the coffee shop the next day, he was surprised to see that the booth the Brit normally occupied only seated the albino-looking man. Disappointment filled him and he considered leaving the shop early for the day- hey, at least he wouldn't have to order anything today- but he never got the chance to think about it. The second he had entered, the man snapped his head to where he was and grinned, waving him over.

Alfred stared and looked behind him. Maybe the guy was calling someone else-

"Hey, guy with the bomber jacket! Over here!"

Alfred cringed. Yeah, he was talking to him.

Before he could change his mind, Alfred made his way over to the booth and hesitantly took a seat across from the albino man. "Gilbert Beilschmidt." The man introduced himself, German accent clear in his voice, and offered his hand to Alfred who shook it. At least Alfred was right about his name. "Nice to finally talk to ya…?"

"Alfred." Alfred looked at the man curiously. "Hey, you're not related to Ludwig are you?"

At this, Gilbert's eyes lit up. "You know my brother?"

"Yeah, we go to school together…"

"Oh, you're _that_ Alfred." Gilbert leaned back and laughed. "_Gott_, what are the odds?"

Alfred didn't know what to say. He had no idea what Gilbert was talking about. The only thing he understood was that he was the older brother Ludwig had vaguely mentioned in passing. Though he was starting to realize why Ludwig had always been so quiet about him…

"I mean," Gilbert continued on, ignoring the confused look Alfred was giving him," if I knew you knew Luddy, I would've introduced eyebrows to you a long time ago. We could've avoided this whole awkward talk. Awkward for you, anyway."

"Eyebrows?" Alfred repeated, even more confused now. He was moments away from running away from the crazy albino but the next thing he said stopped him in his tracks.

"Yeah, you know, the guy you always stare at every time you come in here?" Alfred's face turned red and he spluttered nonsense trying to deny it, but Gilbert waved him off with another laugh. "It's useless trying to deny it. A blind man can see you have the hots for him. The bad thing is, he's totally oblivious to it. And it's starting to affect his performance in work, _so_" Gilbert cheerfully patted Alfred's shoulder," hurry up and ask him out before I lock the two of you in a closet, _ja?_"

Alfred, face a deep red and mind in total chaos from utter embarrassment, could only nod in response.

Gilbert seemed pleased with this answer. "Awesome." He looked behind Alfred and grinned wider at what he saw. "Now's your chance. Good luck, Al." He picked up his coffee and stood up, but stopped before he got too far away. "By the way, his name is Arthur." With a final grin, he left Alfred alone.

Alfred sat there staring at the empty space Gilbert had previously occupied for a few seconds before something finally registered in his mind. What did Gilbert mean by '_now's your chance_'? He turned in his seat to ask what the hell he meant and froze.

Gilbert was still in the shop, but was now talking to a very flustered Brit- Arthur, his mind helpfully told him, his name is Arthur- and pointing to where he was sitting. Alfred immediately turned back and tried to make himself invisible. It obviously didn't work, since a few moments later he heard a pair of footsteps slowly making their way towards him.

"Erm, excuse me…" The familiar English accent spoke nervously. Alfred contemplated running away and never coming back. "Is this seat taken?"

Alfred wondered if it was possible to die by sheer awkwardness.

Both he and Arthur had not said a word since the latter sat down and it was troubling him. He finally gets a chance to talk to the Brit he's crushing on and his mind decides to blank on him.

'_Think Jones!'_ He berated himself. _'How do you normally start a conversation with a stranger? This isn't your first time dammit!' _

He decided introductions would be the safest route so, with his best smile, he extended his hand and offered it to the other. "Alfred F. Jones." He mentally cheered when his voice came out normal.

Arthur looked startled but, to Alfred's amusement, he quickly composed himself and shook his hand. "Arthur Kirkland." Alfred was beyond happy that he finally got to hear the Brit's name. "It's a pleasure to meet you once again, Alfred."

Alfred's expression brightened up at this. "You remember me?"

Arthur nodded, a slight smile on his lips. "Yes. You were the git who I leant my book to."

"Haha, yeah, that's me." Alfred chuckled. "Got to say, it was better than I thought it would be. I've been wanting to thank you for it and ask if you wanted it back-"

"No, that's not necessary." Arthur shook his head, seeming pleased with Alfred's praise. There was even a slight pink tinge on his cheeks that looked very adorable on him, in Alfred's opinion. "I work at a publishing house, so I could always get another copy if I wanted to."

Alfred opened his mouth to ask more about his career- even though he himself would never work in one, he always wondered how books were chosen and made; maybe they even did comic books- when the barista came to their table and placed a Styrofoam cup in front of Arthur. "One coffee, three sugars, and no milk." The barista said.

Arthur looked at the cup blankly. "I haven't ordered anything."

"Your friend ordered it for you before he left." The barista replied happily. Arthur grumbled a few curses at Gilbert but thanked the barista for the drink. Ivan nodded and turned to Alfred, his smile turning slightly colder. "Will you be ordering soon?"

"Yeah, in a minute." Alfred replied just as coldly. The barista looked at him before turning away and going back to the counter.

"Do you know him?" Arthur asked curiously, lifting the cup to take a sip of it. Alfred shrugged.

"Not really. He just sorta hates my guts and makes terrible-" Alfred's eyes widened and, without thinking, snatched the cup away from Arthur just as he was about to take a sip. "Don't drink that!" He shouted. Arthur stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

"Why shouldn't I?" He demanded. "Yes, it's not my usual preference but-"

"You're always drinking tea so you don't know." Alfred took off the lid and pointed to the dark liquid inside the cup. "But the coffee here is crap. Don't drink it, seriously."

"You don't say." Arthur said, a skeptical look in his eyes. "A bit odd that a coffee shop can't produce it's main drink, don't you think?"

Alfred huffed and placed the lid back on. He handed the cup back to Arthur. "If you don't believe me, go ahead. I dare you."

Arthur scoffed and took a small sip. And immediately cringed. "It's…"

"Awful?" Alfred guessed, a smug smile on his face.

"Perfectly fine." Arthur smirked at Alfred's appalled expression. "For coffee, anyway. Tea is much better."

"What? No way!" Alfred snatched Arthur's cup once again and took a sip. He was surprised when he tasted coffee, actual coffee, instead of the crap he'd been drinking since he first came in. He angrily slammed the cup back down and crossed his arms. "I knew that damn Russian was messing with my drinks!"

Arthur couldn't help it. He laughed. Alfred pouted. "It's not funny!" He whined, which only made Arthur laugh harder. "All this time I could've been drinking good coffee! It's unfair!"

"You should consider going to another place then." Arthur said when his laughter finally died down.

"I can't." Alfred mumbled.

"And why's that?"

"Because if I go to another shop, I won't be able to see you-" Alfred stopped and slammed a hand over his mouth. He hoped his hand was able to cover up his red face. He hesitantly moved his eyes to look at Arthur and was surprised that the other was also blushing. At that moment, Gilbert's words rang through his mind. Well, he already made a fool out of himself. He might as well go all out, right?

Alfred retracted his hand and gathered the courage to speak. "Actually, I'm pretty sure there's a diner not far from here that serves good coffee. Tea, too, I think. Do you want to go with me?"

Arthur's eyes widened and, if possible, his face got even redder. He looked away from Alfred and to the window. At first Alfred took it as a rejection and was about to speak up and say he was kidding, but then he saw the slight nod and his breath left him.

"W-well, I _am_ a bit famished…" Arthur rambled, still not looking at Alfred. "And you did mention it's close by…but don't think I'm agreeing because of you! I'm merely hungry and in need of a good cuppa is all!"

Alfred stared at him. "So that's a yes?" A shy nod. Alfred felt a rush of relief and laughed. "That's great! It's only like a five-minute walk from here and they serve really good food. You're gonna love it. Oh, and they have really good milksha-"

"Alfred." Even though he was frowning, there was still a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Before my break ends, please."

"Oh, right." Alfred chuckled again and stood from his seat, offering his hand to Arthur. "Shall we?"

Arthur had a slight smile on his face as he grabbed onto Alfred's hand. "We might as well."

As Alfred led him out of the shop, he turned one last time to where the barista was taking orders at the counter. When the barista turned to him with an oddly amused expression on his face that he didn't question, Alfred stuck his tongue out and dropped Arthur's drink into the trash.

Arthur chuckled and Alfred couldn't resist squeezing Arthur's hand. Arthur turned to him in surprise before looking in another direction. Alfred smiled when he felt him reciprocate the action though.

The two walked out of the coffee shop and Alfred had a feeling that this would be his last time there. And he was right.

Even after three years into their relationship, they had never once stepped back in.

* * *

Extra: The first time Alfred came in, he looked horrible (red eyes, messy hair, typical hangover-type characteristics) and a few people who saw him immediately left the shop while glaring at him. Ivan saw this and hated how Alfred made the shop lose some business, so he messed with his coffee. He kept doing it just because it was fun (and he wanted to see what would happen first-Alfred stomping out of the shop or finally snapping and asking Arthur out). He eventually teamed up with Gilbert so the two idiots could finally get together.


End file.
